Man.
Chuck and I met another couple last night (I told you this would happen). They were sitting at the table next to us at a new restaurant that opened in Mulletville (and it wasn’t a chain restaurant! Woohoo!). Like all non mullet-wearing people who encounter other non mullet-wearing people while out and about in Mulletville, we asked the obvious question:
Where are you from?
They said Milford. When their turn came to ask, the husband said to me, “Wait, don’t tell me, I want to guess. Pennsylvania, right?”
“Why do you think I’m from Pennsylvania?” I asked.
“You have an Amish look about you.”
Amish? What gave it away? My buggy? My frocks? I thought we stopped all that Amish business in high school. I’m all grown up now. I wear lip gloss. Sometimes I even—gasp!—wear low cut shirts and heels. Even though I may have chops—I said may—I don’t try to cover them up with one of these:
Aggghhhh.
The wife started laughing and said not to worry, honey. She confided that her husband’s guessing game is just an insider’s joke she and hubs share as a segue into her talents: clairvoyance and past life regression.
Chuck’s eyes lit up (I’ll be honest here: The best and worst thing about Chuck is that he would buy magic beans on the street). My eyes were squinty and shooting death rays. Do not call me honey—or Amish.
The woman stared at Chuck for a few seconds then said: “You’ve never been here before. You are a new spirit. Because you are…you are…an alien spirit.”
Chuck just about rocket shipped off his chair with glee. His eyes teared up and he slapped his knee about 400 times (as in, by golly, finally a woman who understands me). My death rays turned into death rays made of poison and killer bees and STDs. Do you know what you’ve done? I wanted to shout. You’ve just given my husband, a man obsessed with
and
and
ammunition. It’s like giving an alcoholic an extra liver. It’s carte
blanche to become even more Trekkified.
Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo. Dear God nooooooooooooo.
I gave the couple a pained smile that said, “We’re done with you leave us alone don’t even think of talking to us anymore.” The whole dinner, Chuck's smile was about to pop off his face.
On the ride home I kept thinking about the freakazoid couple. To me, I’m your average brunette who dresses like she she’s going to work—every day. And Chuck’s your average bald guy with nice white teeth and a smoking badonkadonk. But to the world…do we really look like this?
I mean shit, that's a pretty ugly Christmas card.
31 comments:
My husband knows that if anyone calls me "honey," his one and only job is to: a) immediately insert himself between me and said idiot, lest his wife end up in the pokey for murder, and b) use his far greater social skills to get me out of there before I do, indeed commit said murder.
And, yes, his social skills are far more advanced than mine. Not so unlikely, since he comes from the 25th century, too.
You are so freakin hilarious. I don't even know what to say.
Darlin', You left the mini Amish alien bring - no family card is complete without Junior! Oh, Honey, do the Amish (or the Aliens) send holiday cards?
Sugar Booger, think again before wearing that bonnet in public.
You two make a great couple. I can see it...you were meant to be together despite the two very different worlds you come from. I hope Alien Chuck doesn't board his ship with the boy!
I wonder if that's what the mullet-wearing population thinks ALL non-mullet wearers are like? Because, if so, I can see why they're a little intolerant...
God is Great,
Beer is Good,
People are Crazy!
Um, and that Christmas card would definitely not be ottoman worthy!
This totally made me laugh out loud. I needed that - thanks :)
OMG! I am rolling here! Rolling! You are a freakin riot! Come to Iowa and be my neighbor.
Tears of laughter, really tears. I had to stifle my laughing so the kids would not come running out of their room asking what's so funny Mom!!!
Exchanges like that must make you long for the predictability of mullet-wearers. WTF? I love that your back up to death rays were killer bees and STDs. I didn't know the Amish had such a wicked sense of humor. ;)
And has Chuck been prancing round the house slapping his thigh with glee ever since?
That picture can't possibly be correct. The alien would never fit in that spaceship - therefore, you have no problem.
*Were* you in PA? Because we have some serious "Honey" and especially "Hon" offenders 'round these parts. Women younger than me "Hon" me. What is that?
A fun game my husband and I like to play is "Encourage The Nutball." You know, really get them going. Draw out the craziness.
Then again, we're easily amused.
But are you from Pennsylvania? :)
I want to meet that couple so I can have something awesome to blog about.
The card is way cool, in my opinion. Says Happy Holidays with a chuckle!
As always, great post...hilarious!
Oh man, now that is priceless! I had to sit back and wait for the tears to stop flowing before I could respond to this one!
You're Amish and Chuck's an alien, it's all starting to make sense now! :D
Love the Christmas card.You and your husband have the same eyes. Are you related?
And if that doesn't teach you not to talk to strangers, I don't know what will.
My husband strikes up conversations with anything that breathes... so I understand... I'm sorry you ran into Miss and Mr. Cleo, Honey.
roflmao!!!
you're one hot couple, I'd say!
That is exactly why I try to avoid convesations with everyone. Too many freaks.
Everyday I come here to laugh!
OMG that was hilarious! I had to read it out loud to hubby because I was chortling so much over here in front of my computer...(grin!)
And yes, that would totally be one ugly Christmas card. ;)
''her talents: clairvoyance and past life regression...''
Wow. Wish you'd had a video camera phone.
Our loss. Sniff.
I am not sure if I would like to be the Amish or the Alien. Did you look into the chick's pocketbook and see her supply of whippets?? That has to be the only explanation.
Did you say smoking badonkadonk?
*howling with laughter*
You are a nut. Not the smoking badonkadonk.....freaking hilarious.
Didn't the surgery take care of that?
Oh gawd. Isn't it scary the moment your realize, uhoh. whackos. and you need to detach before you get sucked into their mullet?
By then, it's too late. They've already formed some spiritual relationship with your inner mullet and detaching is too painful for them.
This is why I keep my eyes focused on the meal.
Did I ever tell you I have kind of a fascination with the Amish? If it weren't for the whole religion thing and no-flat-irons things, I think I'd like to BECOME Amish.
It is not fair to make a goat spit out her coffee at the computer screen. Really....
And in all seriousness; would a good Amish girl admit to the existance of let alone cohabit with and alien? Think about it?
No one has ever thought of me as Amish, but I did have a guy start speaking to me in Spanish. I told him I couldn't speak the language & then he said: So if not, then are you a Jew?
I guess those were my only two choices with him. Yeah, people are weird.
Liz gave you an award & linked to you, so I stopped by for a read.
~Mary
It's been weeks since his surgery -- his badonkadonk is still smoking?
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